


Gnawing on the Bishops

by SLUMPED



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, Prayer, Public Masturbation, Religion, Wet Dream, church, pillow humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 09:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLUMPED/pseuds/SLUMPED
Summary: Patrick felt unholy.





	Gnawing on the Bishops

Patrick was fresh out of the shower, searching his drawers for a shirt when he got the call from Pete, a new friend of his that he met at a bookstore.

He was older but Pete's age wasn't a bad thing, he was only a few years older than Patrick, but they clicked really quick. They liked the same books, the same poetry, the same music. Patrick’s second favorite color was Pete’s first.

So Patrick put his new friend to his ear and greeted him as he struggled to pull on his shirt, a blue one that read ‘Leland'.

“ _ Hey Patrick, wanna come over?” _

Patrick grinned small, finding a pair of pants before answering,

“Yeah I’d love too! I'd have to be back home before nine, though. I‘ve got church in the morning.”

Pete chuckled through the speaker the noise coming out grainy, and Patrick swore he heard some other voices.

“ _ Don't worry trick, I can get you home before then. Oh- By the way, a couple of my other friends are over.. they’d be happy to meet you. _ ”

A voice or two in the back made an affirmative noise, Patrick smiled. “That be cool! I'll be over in ten.”

“ _ Well, you know where I live. Let yourself in- unless you want us to come pick you up?” _

Patrick shook his head, finding a hat out of the various ones that littered his room. “There's no need for that, Pete. You live right down the street, you know.”

“ _ Whatever you say. We’ll see you soon. Bye Pat.” _

Without anything else, Pete hung up. Patrick listening to the beep as he pulled on his socks and shoes, debating on changing his shirt.

He did change it, throwing it to the ground in exchange for a random red one that peaked his attention.

He left out of his house, locking the door behind him after leaving a note to his mom that he was going to a friend's house.

Patrick hummed as he walked down his street with his hands in his pockets. He quickly made it to a small main road, jaywalking across it and landing on Pete's street.

Pete's house was two away from the corner, Patrick sped up his walking as he made it up to the house and up the porch. Patrick almost knocked until he remembered what Pete said. 

So he walked in.

The front door led right to his living room, there were two boys on the couch that were not Pete.

They both looked over at Patrick. One had naturally red hair and a bigger build, but he was still skinny, he also had a select few tattoos and Patrick only noticed because the guy wasn't wearing a shirt.

The other guy had curly hair and stubble. Not much else to him except for The shit-eating grin he had on his face.

Just as Patrick was about to introduce himself there was a thud from another room and Pete's voice yelling from a distance, “Is that him?”

The redhead yelled back a quick, “Yeah.” Before looking over and smirking at him, Patrick closed in on himself, blushing as he stood right in front of the door.

Pete made it to the room look at at Patrick and smiling, “So adorable, right?”

Patrick rolled his eyes, walking toward Pete as the older one held his arms out for a hug.

Patrick walked into Pete's arms before turning around and sitting in between the two other boys. “So, introduce me to your friends.”

Pete raised his eyebrows, “Patrick;” he started with gesturing to the guy on Patrick's left, “That's Joe,” then to his right. “And that's Andy.”

Patrick smiled and nodded. “Well, hi Joe and Andy. I'm Pete's other friend.”

The two boys stared at Patrick while Patrick looked at Pete and Pete noticed, smiling and clapping his hands as he walked directly in front of them. “I'm gonna go bake some cookies. You guys break the ice, yeah?” 

Andy looked up from Patrick to Pete, with a smirk “Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”

Pete walked off and Joe started. “So, Patrick. We've been hearing a lot about you, how’d you meet Pete?”

Patrick acknowledged Andy's arm draping on his shoulders and holding him to his very warm (and bare) side.

“We met at the bookstore down the road. He helped me find what I was looking for and then we just started talkin’, that's really it.” Patrick deadpanned “How’d you guys meet him?”

Joe smiled at him, chuckling as he answered the boy, “That doesn't really matter right now, does it? Just about you, Patrick.”

Patrick smiled and shrugged, filled with oblivion,

“If you wanna make it like that, then I guess you could.”

Andy and Joe both smiled at him, Andy asking the next question. “Do you have any hobbies?”

Patrick hadn't noticed that he had leaned into Andy more as he began talking, “Not really, sometimes I'll write but other times I like to play some instruments, I guess.” when Patrick stopped talking, he barely noticed the warmth of Joe's hand on his thigh.

“That's really nice Patrick..” Joe praised but then stopped as he took in Patrick's blush, the boy had looked down with the biggest grin, the tips of his ears going red. “..I could sweet talk you all day if this is the reaction I’d get.” Joe squeezed Patrick's thigh. “What about you, Andy?” 

Patrick turned to biting his lip now, his cheeks hurt from the smile that was etched onto his pink face.

“Of course I would-”

Joe started to stroke Patrick's leg, from his knee to mid-thigh, overly warm and a little exciting.

Patrick began to pick at his nails, not daring to lift his head up, “Thanks?” he muttered small, but noticeable.

Joe moved closer, leaning into Patrick, “It's no problem, I could praise you all day, would you like that?”

Patrick didn't answer, turning red and going warm. 

“So, how old are you, Patr-”

“ _ Cookies are done! _ ” 

Pete walked in. A plate of cookies in his hand.

“That was quick.” Joe said, sounding rather annoyed.

Pete laughed, looking at Patrick up and down, “If anything, I wasn't quick enough. What are you guys doing to that boy?” 

Joe took away his hand and Patrick missed it already, but he still remained close to the boy, the rest of Joe keeping Patrick warm even including Andy, of course.

“We didn't do anything, did we, Pat?”

Patrick looked up and shook his head, “No,” he got up, walking over to Pete and stole a cookie, “Not at all. I actually really like ‘em!” Patrick said, giggling and sitting back down in between the two boys.

 

* * *

  
  


At around forty after eight, Patrick was back at his house in Pete's car, saying goodbyes to him and his friends. “You guys were really cool, I hope to see you again soon! Thanks for the ride, Pete.” 

Patrick blew a playful kiss to all three of them before running up to his door. He opened it, turning around to wave at the boys. Running into his house right after. 

His mom was sitting on the couch, looking up and greeting him when he walked in,

“I'm happy you're back before curfew, but get ready and get to bed, we've got church in the morning, I don’t want you to get tired at service.”

Patrick nodded, beginning to walk down the hall to his room. He shut his door behind him and began to pick out his church clothes for tomorrow morning, which usually consist of some corduroy pants and a button up. 

He stripped down to his underwear and socks, picking a baggy shirt to replace with his tight red one. He was already tired, so when he laid down, he had no problem falling asleep. His eyelids fell heavy as he dozed off quickly, resting on his stomach.

He didn't open his eyes but it felt like he did, He stared into the dark corner of his room- shutting them again before groaning at that heat in his stomach. His head felt fuzzy as he felt warm, heavy hands on him. They skimmed over his back, Patrick could’ve sworn they felt familiar. The solid grip and long fingers of Joe’s hand on his thigh earlier that night came back to him. He didn’t pay close attention to it but he must’ve noticed it enough. 

The hands led down to his sides, fingers fitting over the grooves of Patrick’s rib cage, a flash of light brown eyes and black ink came across his mind, along with Andy’s warmth he was snuggled into. The boy whined, tightening a grip on his baby blue sheets. He wanted more of all of them. Patrick licked over his lips, he was hot and his clothes felt too tight. He squirmed and Joe’s hands were not enough. He wanted to feel more.

It was so sinful, the way he opened his eyes a second time. He was panting softly, almost crying at the loss of the three pairs of hands he almost had set on him. He pushed his hips up, grinding into the mattress. His breath hitched as he pushed himself up and onto his knees, flinging the blanket off of him and folding the only pillow he had left in his bed (the others fell off in the spur of the night) putting it in between his thighs.

He held the pillow tight, moving his hips in short, jerking thrusts. His panting turned to whimpering when he imagined Joe’s hands on him again, Andy’s warmth and kind brown eyes all giving their attention to him. He was overwhelmed, keeping all of his whines in the back of his throat. But Joe’s hands were too good for that; they made Patrick want to scream, as they linger over the boy’s pale body. Patrick sped up, grabbing for the first thing in his reach- a 24 inch tall teddy bear that the church got him for his 18th birthday. It was an angel, with sewn on wings and a halo, it was cute- but the boy who gripped it was cuter.

Patrick held the bear close with one arm, the other arm was busy holding his pillow in place. Patrick buried his face into the teddy bear, biting into the soft fleece and letting it muffle his noises. He sped up his pace, his headboard creaking in the slightest. He gripped his pillow harder, stomach tightening and moaning into his teddy bear breathily. His hips stuttering erratically as sweat dripped down his forehead, he bit the stuffed animal harder and fluttered his eyelids shut. 

His eyes began to water, he was so close, pushing the pillow closer to him and grinding down harder. Joe’s hands dipped down to Patrick’s tummy, petting over it until they got to his chest. Pete’s warm eyes were on him, he could feel it. He wanted it all. But the feeling of being caged in the warmth of a certain redhead is what got him off. He gasped, pulling his face from the bear- cuddling the side of his face into it as he began to whisper out with a hitch in almost every word,

“F-father, I know that I ha-ve broken-n your laws and my sins have separ-separated me from you. I truly am sorr-

_ Mhpf-” _

Patrick’s hips came to a hard stop on their upswing as the boy’s body twitched. Both arms now wrapped around his teddy bear, cumming in his boxers harshly, thrusting softly. Shivers ran through him as he rode it out. Hiccuping and flushed red. All of the warmth, kind eyes and solid hands vanished. Patrick already missed them.

He flipped over, onto his back. He didn’t take the blanket or pillow with him, he was too hot. But he kept hold of his teddy bear. He dozed off while looking at his alarm clock. The only other thing crossing his mind than flashing bright red numbers were three certain people.

A few hours later Patrick woke up to a knock on his door and his mother telling him to get ready for church. He sat up and felt the mess in his boxers. Shame filled him to the brim, he tinged red when he looked over- spotting his pillow. He must’ve stained it last night.

He hung his head low as he grabbed his clothes and walked to the bathroom.

Time passed. Both patrick and his mother arriving at the church, being greeted by the locals. Everyone knew each other here, you couldn’t get through easily. Patrick rushed through the crowd of people with minimal hugs and cheek pinches.

They sat in their usual pew. By the time the priest started Patrick was drowning in guilt. Multiple memories of last night came back to him. Especially those heavy hands. He felt them on him again- burning his skin with humiliation.

Patrick felt unholy. 

His throat tightened, mouth going dry. He itched and burned for the three. Again. It was almost like he was addicted to those dark eyes and bare heat. A pang of something jumped through his stomach, he felt himself tumbling down heaven's stairs. He drowned out the strong words of the pastor, breathing heavy.

Patrick felt confined.

He played with his hands, looking around rapidly. He thought everyone’s eyes were on him but he only wanted  _ Pete’s. _

He got up and rushed to the bathrooms. His mom didn’t seem to question it.

He pushed through the door, passing through and settling himself in the stall farthest away. He paced short steps inside of the small space. Muttering to himself while he gripped the cross on his necklace,

“ _ Please send your Holy Spirit to help me obey you. _ ”

He said the phrase over and over again, repeating it- hoping that it’d come true. But it didn’t.

The feel of large hands never left. Eyes never moved. He stayed burning up. He longed for them. 

He took a deep breath and sat on the toilet. He threw his head back, choking on a whimper. He didn’t know what to do, he whined and listened to the slight  _ ‘amen’s’ _ that came from the pews, it only made him more aware of what he was doing- and where he was doing it.

Patrick let his own hands wander over his body.

Patrick knew it was wrong. His thoughts resorted back to last night, he thought about how good he felt. He wanted to feel that again. 

It was almost like Patrick didn’t know that he undid the button and zipper to his pants, yanking them down far enough to palm himself through his briefs. His body twitched. The other hand tugging the cross on his necklace again, he squeezed his eyes shut only to see brown ones staring back at him. 

Then the hands came back, the praise from yesterday hung thickly in the air. Patrick knew he was easy, he tinted pink from his ears to his chest, bucking up into his hand.

“Heavenly Father, I’ve been w-washed in the blood of the lamb- I only wan-“

Patrick’s breath hitched, he tried to choke out more words while grinding against his palm, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t until he heard the bathroom door open, reality came crashing down on him. 

He was touching himself in the house of the lord. But unfortunately; where there is a lord, there is a devil.

Patrick took the hand that was gripping his cross to bite and suck at his thumb. He listened to the person until he left all the way until the door slammed shut.

A blush came over the boy’s body- it held the same colors of the stained glass that the church windows contained. Patrick kept a hand stroking his cock through his briefs until that devil on his right shoulder pushed him further.

Patrick was nothing short of a loud moan when we dipped a hand into his briefs and gripped himself. He bit his lip, his other hand gripping his own thigh. His breathing picked up- he wondered if any of the boys thought of him like this. His stomach tightened, he thought about Andy alone and touching himself to the thought of him. Or Joe wanting to touch his soft body all over.

Patrick wanted it so bad. He clenched his jaw and stroked himself, body jutting with a shudder. Patrick tried to pay attention to the priest’s words- the yelling about letting god into his life. The prayers that seemed to all sound the same were drowned out. Patrick was so ashamed but it only added more into his exhilaration.

He licked over his lips, biting it hard as he picked up his pace. Almost heaving, Patrick thought about the three boys, he shouldn’t think like this, but he imagined himself;

Bent over the back of Pete’s couch, Andy fucking into him. He’s never  _ had  _ it before but Patrick bets that it’d feel the best. He’d make out with Joe- sloppily with spit and too much teeth, moaning into his mouth with every thrust Andy made. Maybe he’d even get on his knees for Pete. Worshiping him like he did God-

He loved the thought of them, so much that they brought Patrick to stroke himself faster, whimpering into his palm, again. His body twitched and his eyes began to water, his stomach burned as he stroked himself quicker- breath going hot. Patrick was almost out of it, drooling over himself as he thought of the boys.

Patrick let out a choked sob as he came into his hand, biting at his palm with the thought of brown eyes on him. He let his head lull back as he calmed down. 

He sighed and Patrick began to clean up his mess, wiping himself off with the thin tissue. He stood up on shaky legs and tried to fix his appearance in anyway possible before walking out. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw nothing but  _ sin. _

His hair was disheveled and unkempt, matted from sweat. His face was tear-streaked and he was red all over. He worked quick to fix it. But then he heard someone flush.

_ How long have they been in there?  _

 

Patrick’s eyes widened, panic settling into his gut. He ran out before the stall door opened. He made his way back to his pew quickly, settling next to his mom. He murmured out a small; “I think I’m sick. I’m gonna’ go stay in the lobby.”

His mother took in the sight of him, she smiled and nodded, rushing him off. 

Patrick got up again, leaving into the church lobby, yanking up his zipper when he realized it was down. He sat in the uncomfortable chair, across from the confessional, bouncing his leg. The priest’s door was shut- someone was in there, but the sinner’s door was open.

He stared at it, stomach dropping and throat going tight. It was open before, during and after the service. Patrick didn’t know why but he was drawn to it, the guilt that he held on his shoulders was already getting too heavy.

The boy walked over to the confessional. Stepping into the space, he closed the door and got on his knees. Patrick took a deep breath and began;

“ _ Forgive me father, for I have sinned. _ ”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea before we even knew about 'Church' lmao


End file.
